I am from the woods, the thorns, the bugs.

I am from the fire, the smell of burning cedar.
From the moving vans I hail, going back, back in time.
From the box in the cabinet, the picture on the wall.
I am doctors’ offices, libraries, and several different schools.
I am the trips to the family farm,the fishing ponds, the cows.
I am sweat, and tears, in the pleasure of pain I reside.
I am airplanes, trains, and rocks on which I lie.
A twinkle in my mother's eye.